


To The Unseeing

by thousandmonkeys



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Gen, hypothetical endings, wow it doesnt even have characters listed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thousandmonkeys/pseuds/thousandmonkeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing to go is sight. Inspired by a post on tumblr, and probably not canon now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Unseeing

It starts when they pass by the forest.

On the road, it’s too easy to lose yourself in the traffic, always moving onwards to the capital. Used to the silence that the forest offered, the pair were too disoriented to make anything of the way Sorey keeps looking around for Mikleo, keeps frowning as if focusing on the Seraph is progressively harder.

Mikleo disregards it. It’s probably the concussion from when the swordsman was thrown against a tree. 

He does buy—not steal, he did leave some coins there, even if the hawker doesn’t notice it immediately—some carrots at the next market place they come upon. They’re supposed to be good for eyesight, and Sorey isn’t doing himself any favours, the way he insists on reading in the dark. 

The fair haired boy ignored the fact that books were being read at the same speed as ever. 

* * *

When they meet Lailah, when Sorey draws the sword, shining all too brightly, Mikleo breathes a sigh of relief. 

Not out of some misplaced belief that his childhood friend might save the world, or something absurd like that. 

There’s no way that a Shepherd could lose the ability to see Seraphs.

There’s no way he’s going to lose his dearest friend.

* * *

Around the time they meet Edna, it’s getting a little ridiculous. 

Armitization still works, and maybe that’s why it takes Sorey a while to realise that he doesn’t hear the fair-haired boy.

Mikleo pretends that he has a sore throat and doesn’t speak for a week; thankfully, Sorey doesn’t press any further. It’s clearly taking a toll on him, but somehow, when they get back to adventuring, everything’s gone back to normal.

The boy with his affinity for water and colour like a ghosts--and perhaps that's why _this_ has happened--takes to staying away when in the cities; if he’s not there, maybe Sorey won’t realise it as quickly.   
  
At least this city is large enough that he can walk around unseen.

* * *

Alisha's noticed. 

It would be hard not to.  It comes like a bolt of lightning when Sorey looks around the forest and asks, somewhat jokingly, if all the Seraphs have decided to go for another bathroom break, all at the same time.

Or it would’ve been a joke, if they hadn’t been right there.

Fortunately, she gives an understanding nod, and plays along.

It would've been too cruel not to.

* * *

It hurts when he’s right there and Sorey can still touch him and Mikleo can still still, against all logic, wipe the tears off his dearest friend’s face.

It hurts when what passes for talk is now either through the heat of battle, that one perfect moment in time; or through scribbled letters on cheap parchment, in an increasingly desperate scrawl that, according to the other, seemed to squirm under his gaze as if trying to escape.

It hurts when the Shepherd looks around blindly, eyes unseeing, and Mikleo wants to scream  _I’m here, I’m right here you idiot_ ; but it’s no use. 

** He wouldn’t hear it anyway. **

* * *

It takes an elbow to Sorey’s side, with perhaps a little too much force, to get the boy to notice him, now.

Thankfully, he still responds.

* * *

By the time the last battle is over, everything’s come to an end. 

“We did it guys!” 

In the rather sparse hall, the triumphant yell seemed to bounce off the wall. Sorey looks up, brushes the sweat from his forehead, and looks around, frowning. Realisation hits in a delayed moment, and it’s horrifying to see the ever-present grin fade into a pale shadow of itself, present only by force of habit.

“You’re…still here, aren’t you?"

Everything considered, it seemed like the mantle of the Shepherd had been the only thing keeping Sorey’s sight to him. Maybe that’s why the Seraphim had turned into the stories of myth, childhood fairytales. Humans weren’t meant to see them, especially once cities arose and they turned inwards to themselves..

Mikleo rests his hand on Sorey’s back, but the human doesn’t feel it. 

It’s not his fault.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the post: http://fonbella.tumblr.com/post/107160051361
> 
> I just really wanted to write this.


End file.
